


The Other Side of Midnight

by Hardrada



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25845766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardrada/pseuds/Hardrada
Summary: A bit of fluffy McKirk for your reading pleasure (I hope).  There's no plot, it's just two blokes in love.  Hope you enjoy.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	The Other Side of Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> McKirk being my new go-to pairing I have decided to have a dabble (just think if I'd limited myself I could have dabbled with a drabble - no really, it's a gift...). In my world, Bones has given himself a duty to look after Jim as he goes careening off without a thought for himself. He adores him, but he's exasperated as well.

The Other Side of Midnight

It was coming up on midnight and Bones was happily ensconced in his corner, a glass of Scotty’s Laphroaig clutched in his hand (where did that man find this stuff? He was probably distilling it and just putting it in the bottles - still, tasted damn good), watching as Captain Kirk moved from group to group of these terrible, boring delegates, charming them and appearing interested in the rubbish they were spouting. If anybody had cared to glance over to him where he stood in the shadows, they would have seen his heart in his eyes.

_It’s the alcohol,_ he said to himself. _I’m better than this at hiding it._

He took another mouthful of the spirit and rolled it slowly around his mouth. It really was incredibly smooth. It couldn’t be the real stuff, it just couldn’t, but by Christ… He raised the glass again and then stopped, startled, as a hand covered the top of the glass.

“Designed to be savoured, Dr McCoy,” said Sulu with a smile. “It’s not water, you know”.

“Technically I could argue that,” Bones growled. “But I take your point”. He raised the glass in a toast but didn’t drink it. “Just got a bit distracted”.

Sulu followed his gaze and nodded. “So I see. He does a good job, doesn’t he? I don’t know how he keeps that expression on his face”.

Bones watched as Jim turned to yet another group, his eyes passing apparently unseeingly over the little group of his crew, but Bones saw the softness appear fleetingly in his eyes and the slightest quirk of his lips. He raised the glass again and felt his eyes soften in response. He loathed these receptions with the passion of a thousand burning suns, but he would follow Jim into the bowels of hell if he was asked to (in fact, he thought he had on a couple of occasions), and Jim had asked, looked at him with those stupid eyes, his legs all tangled around Bones’ own, his bed hair pointing in every direction, and had said, “Come with me, Bones. You’re not specifically invited, but I want you there”.

“Well of course I wasn’t invited”. Bones did the whole ‘gruff and angry’ thing (he was beginning to suspect it was his default setting), and he employed it now. “After all, why would they invite the Chief Medical Officer?” He had raised his hand, unable to resist Jim’s gravitational pull, the allure of the long, lean back, the skin that still held the hint of a tan (after a fantastically filthy couple of days spent on Atraxia IV – who knew this old body could get into that kind of position?). “If you want me there, then I’ll be there”.

Jim had smiled at him and flumped onto his back, trapping Bones’ hand beneath him. “Good,” he said. “Thanks, Bones. I need you there…” He turned his head and smiled again, forcing Bones to really glower so that he didn’t give himself away by doing something ridiculous like smiling in return. “After all, what if I eat something weird and have a reaction to it? Need you to save me”.

“Is that all?” Bones pulled his hand out from beneath Jim’s back and reached up, making a half-hearted attempt at smoothing down the mad hair before running his hand down JIm’s face, cupping his cheek, smiling as Jim tilted his head to rest against Bones’ warm palm. And yes, of course he smiled, he wasn’t some unfeeling zombie (oh, that had been a laugh, when they had met the unfeeling zombies. Jim’s remark afterwards about feeling as if he was in a holovid? Yup). And with a warm and enticing handful of Jim Kirk, who could possibly pretend to be anything other than happy?

“You’re my saviour,” Jim had replied, nipping softly at Bones’ throat. “You know that, you know you are, so don’t pretend”.

Yes, he was Jim’s saviour, and yes he did know that. He had saved this angry, angry young man who insisted on lashing out in all directions with no real idea what it was he hated, and who did not believe that there was anything in him that was worth anybody’s time. But what Jim still – still – refused to accept or acknowledge was that it had been mutual. They had saved each other. It may have had all the subtlety of a wreck on the highway, but these two had recognised each other and realised what was needed. Bones would forever be grateful for that. He would forever be grateful for the fact that he, and only he, got to see this part of Jim – this ridiculous, boneless creature wrapped around him, open and vulnerable and showing Bones every part of his soul. Nobody had ever seen that before, and sometimes it made Bones want to weep for the sheer joy, responsibility and heartbreak of it all.

Bones shook his head, coming back to the present. He held up the heavy crystal tumbler, letting the light play through the peaty colour of the liquor. This was really good shit if it could send him off down that kind of avenue. He glanced around, but nobody seemed to have noticed, so perhaps he hadn’t been staring at Jim with his tongue hanging out (it had happened. He had been semi-conscious, but still…)

“Dr McCoy”. Spock materialised in that creepy way of his, annoyingly blocking his view. Bones pushed himself upright, refusing to slouch in front of such a very – upright – person. 

“What can I do for you?” He nodded at Uhura who stood beside Spock, one arm resting lightly on his forearm in a display of possessiveness that was the human equivalent of a tongue down the throat. _Living on the edge, you two._ He stopped himself from going any further down that route.

“It is a pleasant surprise to see you here tonight.” Spock turned slightly to acknowledge Sulu, who was by now standing in the corner, glassy eyed. “Mr Sulu seems to be somewhat unwell”.

“Mr Sulu seems to be somewhat hammered out of his skull”. Bones shifted as if he was going to move away, but Uhura shook her head. “I’ll see to him,” she said. “I think he’s missing his family. We need a long chat”. She squeezed Spock’s arm (calm down, Uhura!) and made her way over to Sulu, just stopping him from sliding down the wall. She put her arm around his waist and without any visible effort led him from the room. That woman had the core strength of a – thing with a hell of a lot of core strength. Again, Bones’ mind began to wander and he recalled himself with difficulty. _Really, Bones, waaaay too much to drink._

So there he was, left with Mr Talkative. He thought about taking another sip of the good stuff, but managed to stop himself. _Not for a while. You’re heading into Sulu territory._ And Mr Talkative was looking at him in that way he did when he was about to ask something really personal. Oh god.

“Dr McCoy, I am glad that we met.” As if they had just run into each other in the street. “I was hoping that I could discuss something with you”.

“Yes?” Bones said warily. This could really go in any direction.

“It is about the Captain”.

_Oh thank all the gods! I don’t want to think about their sex life. Shit! Now I’m thinking about their sex life._

Bones put the glass down. “What about him?”

“Although I know it is none of my business on a personal level, on a professional one, I have to say that I think the Captain is looking over-tired. Do you think he has been taking on too much recently?”

“He always takes on too much, we all take on too much,” replied Bones. “His problem is that he broke his ribs when he fell into the pit on Q’oth, and got his foot half ripped off at the same time, and then refused to stay in bed to recover, as usual. Oh, and then he got that fever about 10 days later. He’s been through a lot in a short time, and we’re none of us as young as we once were”.

“I was going to suggest that perhaps a medical leave of absence for perhaps 48 hours would help?”

“Yes it would, and don’t think I haven’t thought about it”. Bones shrugged. “But you know what he’s like”.

“Indeed.” The one word said it all. _May as well try and catch the rain as tell that man what to do when he don’t want to._

“Short of tripping him up and dislocating his knee, there’s no way I can persuade him,” said Bones. “And tempting as it sometimes is to do that, it wouldn’t go down well”.

“I have a proposition that does not involve bodily harm”. 

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Bones grinned, a little manically, he suspected. As expected, there was no reaction. _What goes on in that head of yours? When you die, can I dissect you?_

***

It was the other side of midnight and the reception was slowly winding down, people taking their leave, heading either planet side or to their cabins. As always, the space that had been so glamorous-seeming during the reception began to take on a slightly sordid, seedy air. 

“Makes you want to throw open the windows and let the night air in,” Jim said, now leaning comfortably against the wall next to Bones, their shoulders touching.

“Don’t do that,” Bones said. “Don’t even say that. You know what you’re like for saying something and then doing it”.

“Bones,” Jim laughed softly. “The windows don’t actually open”. He reached over and picked up the long-abandoned glass that was still on the table near Bones’ hand. He took a quick sniff at it and blinked. “That’s good, good stuff”. He took a tentative sip and Bones fought down his immediate response to knock it away from him just in case he turned out to be allergic to it. He wasn’t allergic to whiskey, Bones knew that perfectly well; it didn’t like him, but that was an entirely different matter involving vomiting, headaches and self-pity.

“I’d like that,” he said. “I’d like to be somewhere with night air and stars and – us”. He may have started blushing halfway through the statement. It was awful personal and romantic for a public space.

Jim smiled, settling back against the wall, slightly closer, his fingers touching the back of Bones’ hand. He didn’t speak, but Bones, sneaking a look at his face, saw the tiredness there, the sheer bone-deep exhaustion. It wasn’t so long ago that Jim had been through a bout of depression that had been horrible to witness; it had left Bones weeping in frustration at his inability to help the man he loved to come back, and it was something he never wanted to experience again. Sometimes it felt as if all he wanted to do was pull Jim close and keep the world at bay. And he knew what Jim’s response to that would be.

“Come on, Bones.” Jim pushed himself away from the wall, moving in that abrupt way he had sometimes, usually when he had made a decision that would in some way cause Bones to roll his eyes. He rolled his eyes.

“What?” he said suspiciously. “It’s too late and I’m too old for it, whatever it is”.

Jim held out his hand, cocked his head in that way that he knew was guaranteed to make Bones melt and gave a half smile. “Dance with me”.

There was a nanosecond’s silence. “What?” 

Jim waggled his fingers. “Dance with me”.

And just like that, as usual and forever, Bones submitted. He went for a token snort and eye roll, but nothing more than a token, and pushed himself away from the wall in his turn, reaching out and taking Jim’s hand. Jim smiled, but not in triumph, just in satisfaction and pleasure, and turned, the hand holding Bones’ behind his back as he led the way to the open space, now almost empty as the last of the crew and delegates left.

Reaching the centre of the room, Jim turned again and rested his free hand on Bones’ shoulder, then rested his head on that hand. Bones felt the tension leave him in a wave and pulled him closer, his cheek resting against Jim’s hair. He smelled of sweat and alcohol and the undefinable smell that was Jim. The smell of home, Bones supposed, without surprise. Jim had been his home since that first day on the shuttle.

Once, Bones would have been embarrassed to do this, to be seen behaving like this in public. He loved Jim, but had no wish to put it on public display. He wanted to keep it between them. Private. Impossible. But that was impossible. Jim swept aside any inhibitions he may have had, and now Bones was happy just to be there; there with his Jim. He tightened his grip. Christ above, he loved this man. Jim grunted an acknowledgement and shifted an impossible micron closer.

“Jim”. Bones whispered the name, no more than a hint of sound. “Jim, listen. I’m done for a while, I’m tired, I’m cranky and I’m middle-aged. I haven’t had leave since – don’t remember”. He turned his head as much as he could trying to see if there had been a reaction. “I plan to sign myself out for 48 hours starting tomorrow. The mission is done, we have to stay here for another three days to unload the cargo before heading back. I’m just asking you plain and simple to come with me”. He pressed his lips against Jim’s hair to still any complaint. “I know you’re real busy, but I’m tired, and any leave without you wouldn’t be leave, you know? I don’t want to go anyplace without you”. He stopped, realising he was rambling, and felt Jim sigh against him, leaning on him a little more heavily, angling his head so that Bones felt soft lips against his neck.

“You know something, Bones? All you had to do was ask. You’re right, and I know you’re right, and I know you’re right. You know me, I just need to be told sometimes”. Bones felt Jim smile against his neck. “Spock can look after anything that happens, I guess. It’s only unloading whilst in stationary orbit”.

“Let go sometimes, darlin’. Just let go. Trust your crew”.

“I do. Of course I do”.

“You have nothing left to prove. So listen to me; let me the one who tells you that you need to rest”.

“Mmm. You do it really well”.

“You were ready to be told, don’t try and fool me. You can blame me for anything that goes wrong now”.

There was no response. Bones smiled and moved his hand, resting it against the back of Jim’s neck. _There are no words. There will never be words big enough for this. Thank you, Spock, for the suggestion._ (“Dr McCoy, you are an intelligent man. Surely you understand that all you have to do is ask him to join you. Do not demand; simply focus on yourself, on your own need. He will not deny you”. _A big ‘fuck you, dimwit’ wrapped up in so-called logic. Enjoy the rest of your life, Uhura._

On the other side of midnight, Bones and Jim danced to music only they could hear.


End file.
